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Of Sherlock * thus, for preaching famd,
The sexton reason'd well ;
Because he rang the bell.
A LOVE POEM
FROM A PHYSICIAN TO HIS MISTRESS,
WRITTEN AT LONDON.
poets we are well assurd
you but known, your heart would melt, Like ruffling winds in caverns pent, Till Nature pointed out a vent.
* The dean of St. Paul's, father to the bishop. H.
How have you torn my heart to pieces
TO DEAN SWIFT,
BY SIR ARTHUR ACHESON.
Good cause have I to sing and vapour,
A subject for their genius fit;
and war, and both, and neither.
DEAN SWIFT AT SIR ARTHUR ACHESON'S,
IN THE NORTH OF IRELAND.
The Dean would visit Market-bill,
Our invitation was but slight;
And so I bade sir Arthur write.
* The Dean gave this name to a farm called Drumlack, which he rented of sir Arthur Acheson, whose seat lay between that and Market-hill; and intended to build a house upon it, but afterward changed his mind. F.
Nor thou, lord Arthur *, shalt escape;
To thee I often call'd in vain, Against that assassin in crape ;
Yet thou could'st tamely see me slain :
Nor, when I felt the dreadful blow,
Or chid the Dean, or pinch'd thy spouse ; Since you could see me treated so
(An old retainer to your house): May that fell Dean, by whose command
Was form'd this Machiavelian ploi, Not leave a thistle on thy land;
Then who will own thee for a Scot?
Pigs and fanaticks, cows and teagues,
Through all my empire I foresee, To tear thy hedges, join in leagues,
Sworn to revenge my thorn and me. And thou, the wretch ordain'd by fate,
Neal Gahagan, Hibernian clown, With hatchet blunter than thy pate,
To hack my hallow'd timber down ; When thou, suspended high in air,
Diest on a more ignoble tree, (For thou shalt steal thy landlord's mare),
Then, bloody caitif! think on me.”
* Sir Arthur Acheson. F.
IN BERKELEY CHURCHYARD, GLOUCESTERSHIRB.
Here lies the earl of Suffolk's fool,
Men call’d him Dicky Pearce ;
When wit and mirth were scarce.
What signifies to cry?
Buried June 18, 1728, aged 63.
MY LADY'S * LAMENTATION AND COMPLAINT AGAINST THE DEAN.
JULY 28, 1728.
SURE never did man see His malice is plain,
The Dean never stops,
With rebus and pun. And gives me a wipe Before he came here, With Skinny and Snipe: To spunge for good cheer,
* Lady Acheson.. F.